Operation LassiePumpkinFace
by shadow243ali
Summary: Twas the night before Halloween and all through Lassie’s house, Shawn Spencer was stalking like a poorly trained mouse.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Ah, my first psych fic. I'm so proud. lol...**

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_Twas the night before Halloween and all through Lassie's house, Shawn Spencer was stalking like a poorly trained mouse._

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He snuck through a window, jimmied open by a credit card.

A whisper of "Awesome, dude that worked!" accompanied him, and to his right Gus gave a groan. He didn't want to be any part of this, he really didn't but Shawn had been determined to make Lassiter appreciate the horror of Halloween.

Although breaking into the house of a trigger happy cop – whose trigger would prefer to pull once aimed at Shawn more than anyone – was not the makings of a good plan. In fact Gus would call it a recipe for disaster, he had in fact called it that out loud, but Shawn had grinned at him with an even more purposeful stride towards his car with Gus's keys in his hand. Gus was helpless to follow. There was no way in hell he was going to let Shawn drive. And now he was sneaking through a window to Lassiter's house. All because of Shawn!

"Come on, Shawn. Lassiter will kill you." He tried to make him see reason, he didn't want to spend years in prison – and that was only if he was lucky. He wouldn't do well in prison. He didn't have the temperament. And there was no way he could make it in the Big House.

"Dude, he so will not."

"Shawn I do not want to get shot! Lassiter probably sleeps with a gun under his pillow." Gus could imagine it well. Lassiter hearing a creaking floorboard as they carefully made their way through the house, but not careful enough, would let the cop instinct take over. He would slip downstairs, turn and corner and see them – nothing but shadows; burglars as far as he was concerned. And then...

BANG! BANG! He'd be dead. So would Shawn. And all because of a stupid prank; it was not a fitting end. His perfect credit would all be for nothing!

"Probably in his clenched fist, finger on the trigger." Shawn added, as he rummaged – noisily – through a drawer. Gus eyes widened, panicked, as he glanced between the drawer Shawn's hands were racketing through and the stairs, anxiously praying his death scene would not come to pass.

"Shawn! That is not helping!" He whispered harshly, slapping at Shawn's hand, "Will you keep it down? He might wake up."

"Dude, please. He won't." Shawn scoffed, opening the fridge," Ooh, pineapple!" He turned to Gus excited, "Did you know Lassie liked pineapple?"

He rolled his eyes, "And why would Lassiter not wake up?"

Shawn smiled at him, turning his head, "Well, I did make a little phone call."

Gus waited for him to go on. When he didn't he found the sudden urge to shout, "Shawn!" The regretted it instantly, glancing at the stairs, "Oh no, I'm going to die."

"You are not. Lassiter's not even here."

Gus blinked, "What?"

"He's not here." Shawn repeated, as he moved to get a knife to slice up the pineapple. A feat not well accomplishable in the dark, "You know where Lassie would keep a knife?" He turned, not getting an answer to see Gus walking away, although he did look more like a blurred mass of shadow. He moved his hand to the light switch, flipping it on. The black shadow grew defined and in colour. If only they could do that with old movies then he would so watch them. "Gus! Where are you going?" Gus didn't answer, "Come on! Get back here!"

"No way Shawn!" He threw up his hands, impatient, "I just climbed through a window, thinking I was going to get killed. And you didn't even think to tell me that he wasn't even here."

He shrugged, "Well, I could've but I needed to make sure."

With that, Gus turned on the spot, "And how did you make sure?"

"We're still alive, aren't we? If Lassie was here we so would have been dead as soon as we got on the porch." He threw out his hands, white teeth gleaming as he smiled, "We should rejoice at that fact! Now we can get on with Operation Lassie-Pumpkin-face."

"No way Shawn!" He took a step forward, raising his finger to exaggerate his point, "I am not – and I repeat NOT – going to get killed by Lassiter."

Shawn nodded, "Yes..." He spoke slowly and then paused, waiting. When nothing came, he continued, "Now that's out of the way-"

"No Shawn!"

Shawn's face fell, "But I didn't even get to ask."

"No. I'm serious. No."

"But-"

"No Shawn!"

"Dude! Come on! Gus, we only get one chance at this!" He had on _the face_. Gus knew it well. Anytime he wanted something _that_ look would cross his face, and somehow sooner or later Gus would fold. Well, not this time!

"I mean it Shawn, no!" He crossed his hands over his chest, "I will leave you behind."

"Fine!" He shouted back like a petulant child, "Go then! See if I care!"

"Fine I will!"

He gave Shawn one last irritated look before he turned and purposefully walked straight out of the door, leaving a sullen looking fake psychic detective behind.

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_He sat with a pineapple, he sat with whipped cream, and once they were eaten he went on to saltines. All the while, Gus Burton sat in a blue echo outside. And with no engine started, he let out a sigh, resigning himself to the knowledge that he was soon going to die. And so he got out and went to back inside._

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"I knew you wouldn't leave me!" Shawn exclaimed happily, munching on a saltine, as Gus begrudgingly walked back inside.

Gus merely groaned in response.

Shawn jumped off of the battered thing Lassiter called a couch, "Come on, it'll be fun."

"Dying is not in my definition of fun." Gus replied.

"Well neither is-" He paused, eyes widened as he quickly motioned for Gus to keep quiet, "Do you hear-"

CRASH! The sound of Lassiter's boot banging against his door as he kicked it open interrupted Shawn's sentence.

"SPENCER!"

"-that?" Shawn finished lamely, sticking his hands up in the air as Carlton Lassiter came straight for him. He then mocked whispered, "Gus! Run! Save yourself!"

Gus was already running out the door by the time he had finished his sentence. Lassiter let him go, mainly so he could have Spencer to himself. Nothing said punishment like an interrogation with no one to save you.

"Gus! Come back! I didn't mean it!" He shouted, gulping at the look on Lassiter's face. Also the fact his gun was still drawn was a little disconcerting. And by little, he meant a lot! "Come on, Gus! So not cool!"

"What are you doing trespassing in the house of a Head Detective of the SBPD?"

"Lassieface, I know your job title." He edged towards the door, "You mention it like-"

"Answer the question!"

"I was..." He let out a grin, lacking its normal ease, "Admiring the furniture?" He waved a hand over the couch, "Really? Did it come straight out of the 80's or did you pick it up in a police auction? Seriously! Lassie, two words: IKEA."

Lassiter frowned, "That's one word."

Shawn took a moment in response to look confused, "It is?" He paused to think, "One word Lassie: IKEA." He grinned, nodding, "It does wonders." Shawn glanced over his shoulder towards the open door; he spotted Gus desperately trying to get his car to start. The sound of an engine spluttering to life alerted Shawn to the fact his ride was leaving.

He had two options. One: he stay and face the consequences, and most likely, die a slow and painful death. Or two: He run for his life screaming like a little girl.

He took one last look at Lassie's face before going for the latter. His high pitched scream echoes down the street as he nosedived through the open window to Gus's car, adding to his screams, "DRIVE GUS! DRIVE! HE HAS A GUN! HE'S NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"

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_Twas the night before Halloween and outside Lassie's house, Shawn Spencer was screaming with the cowardice of a mouse._

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Carlton Lassiter smiled as he holstered his gun. There was no better way than to get Spencer out of his hair than scaring the wits out of him. A few days at the department 'Spencer-free' was a great thing; just in time for the Halloween loons to come out of the shadows and be arrested by him for obstruction of justice. He could practically smell law and order in the air.

With that thought in mind, he let out a peaceful sigh and went inside.

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**AN: I'm thinking of adding another chapter to this because nothing says 'Operation Lassie-Pumpkin-Face' better than Shawn Spencer and revenge.**


	2. Chapter 2

Lassiter's hope that he would free of the irritating menace was a fleeting one.

Shawn Spencer had his feet perched on the edge of Lassiter's desk when Carlton Lassiter came in the next morning. His demeanour stiffened as he clapped eyes on the fake - because he knew that only an idiot like Spencer could pretend to have supernatural abilities – psychic detective.

He glared at the man who was sitting in his chair, "What are you doing here?" He practically shouted.

"Lassieface! You look so much better than you did last night." He leaned his seat towards Jules, "Seriously Jules, you would've been worried."

She frowned, confused, "What happened?" She turned to look at Lassiter, "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" He spoke gruffly, "Spencer, here-"

Shawn interrupted, naturally, "Watched in horror as Lassie's face turned purple. Seriously Jules, it was like Barney the dinosaur purple. You could even see the vein in his head. Kind of like now..." He paused, leaning forward to point at the vein. "You can see it, right there, right above his eyebrow." Lassiter swatted his hand away, "Ow!"

Lassiter subconsciously touched his forehead, making Shawn smile slightly. Once the realisation of his action dawned on him, he quickly pulled his hand away and grabbed Shawn by the collar, yanking him out of his chair, "No, detective O'Hara, I think you'll find that I came home last night to find Spencer here trespassing."

"Shawn!"

"What?" Shawn began innocently, "I was taking a midnight stroll when the psychic vibes-"

"Cut the crap Spencer!" Lassiter growled, "You're paying for my door by the way."

"I wasn't the one who took a size 12 foot to the poor innocent slap of wood. You could be like a normal person like me and turn the door handle."

"You climbed through my window!"

"True," He nodded in agreement, "But that was because your door was locked. What else was I to do? The psychic vibes were calling."

"Well, my police cuffs are calling and there telling me to arrest you for breaking and entering, trespassing and resisting arrest."

"But Lassie! I got you a 'thank-you-for-not-arresting-me' present. If you locked me up then what would become of the present?"

"I don't-"

Shawn put one hand to his head dramatically and cried out; interrupting him in the process, "Think of the present Lassie!" His voice rose in desperation; a perfect imitation of a hysterical parent. He then reached his other hand out to the perfectly wrapped gift that was perched on the edge of Lassiter's desk, "What did it ever do to you?"

"I can think of a number of things its owner did to me!"

Shawn scooped the gift up in his hands, and gingerly extended his hands towards Lassiter in a gesture that would've appeared innocent had it been anyone other than Spencer, "But now you're the owner. Take it, Lassie! It wants to go home!"

He looked at it with a grimace on his face as Shawn thrust it into his grip before taking two steps back. Lassiter stared at it for a moment before he turned his head to look at his partner. O'Hara merely shrugged in response, "It isn't moving!" She spoke, looking at the gift with curiosity, "What's the worst it could be?"

"Yeah Lassie! Take a chance!"

Lassiter glared at the fake psychic, before glancing down once more at the gift before he put it back in Spencer's hands, "You open it!"

"What?" Shawn asked surprised, barely being able to grip at the gift with the force Lassiter had used to thrust it back into his hands, "Why?"

"It's a gift from you! The last time I got a gift from you it exploded!"

"No, the last gift you got from me was a snow globe." Lassiter cringed, "It was the time before that the pineapple surprise exploded. Technically that wasn't a gift."

"And it was the suspect who exploded it, not Shawn." Jules helpfully added; Shawn gave her a smile in response.

"He's still opening it."

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Shawn carefully lifted the lid of the box as if encased within was a bomb just waiting to go off. Once the task was done, he wiped his brow and reached inside and pulled out a papier-mâché pumpkin. It was crudely carved, an imitation of a child's imagination; Lassiter could not imagine it being made by anyone other than Spencer.

"Did you make this?" Jules asked lightly, picking it up to examine it.

"Why yes! Yes I did!" He spoke with feverish excitement.

Lassiter cringed at it, "This looks-"

"Lovely!" Jules interrupted, smiling in the face of Shawn's prideful stare, "It looks lovely, Shawn."

"Well, my work is done. I'll be back later; Gus is giving me a ride to the haunted mansion. The psychic vibes are calling, Jules...Lassie..." He smiled his winning smile before he quickly walked away, out through the doors.

Lassiter watched him until he disappeared before he turned to his partner and said, "I'm not keeping this!"

"Oh, he's just trying to be nice." Juliet amended, putting the pumpkin back on Lassiter's desk, "Plus Halloween only lasts for one day. You can get rid of it tomorrow."

Groaning in annoyance, Lassiter conceded, "Fine...but it's going in the trash tomorrow."

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Shawn quickly climbed into the car, "Dude, is it working?"

Gus showed him the laptop, on the screen a moving image of the interior of the SBPD. Lassiter's voice rung out clear amongst the rumbles of the background noises, "...it's going in the trash tomorrow."

"I can't believe they're going to throw my gift in the trash. I put a lot of hard work into that."

Gus sighed, "Shawn, you paid a kid five dollars for it."

He actually had done so, and it was Gus who had watched in horror as Shawn waved five dollars at a five year old who had been staring down at his mangled pumpkin creation with something akin to pride. Of course, after a moment of delegation - which to the child had consisted of staring at the money, then at the pumpkin, then at the money again – he decided to swap his creation. An act which had ultimately led to a quick getaway when the child's mom returned and demanded to know where his pumpkin had went to. Too bad the five dollars hadn't consisted of keeping his mouth shut. He was never going near that park again; a blue echo was noticeable enough and he wasn't risking the company car with a mother demanding their child's crudely made pumpkin back.

"I know! It was my last five dollars!" Shawn frowned, "Now I won't be able to get a pineapple smoothie!" He made a face, his lower lip pulled down to a pout, "Gus..." He whined.

"No!"

"Come on!"

"I am not buying you a smoothie, Shawn!"

"I just risked my life in there." He pointed towards the police department.

"You're the one who wanted to spy on Lassiter, not me." Gus retorted, "I have no part in your criminal activities, Shawn."

"Gus, the whole point of the camera was to make sure that we don't get caught in our criminal activities. How else would we spend in time if operation Lassie-Pumpkin-Face didn't survive?"

"Oh I don't know Shawn; I could actually be at work."

Shawn shook his head at his friend. Didn't he understand that there were more important things in life than pharmaceuticals? He was practically saving him from a life of boredom, yet he didn't appreciate that. Plus there was no way anyone was going to want drugs on Halloween night that would poorly substitute the sugar rush of candy – lots of candy. All in all, Shawn was saving Gus, he was much better spending his time with this than anything else?

"Gus, this is work!"

"No, it's not!"

"It is!"

"Are we getting paid for this Shawn?" He glared at his friend, "Because my other job pays our bills."

"Yes, but does it give you the satisfaction of actually having fun?" Gus hated the fact he looked smug, but no matter what he would never admit out loud that there was nothing better than his job with Shawn, but admitting that would make him lose his point and that was not something he was willing to do at this moment, "Does it Gus?"

He remained silent, simply glaring instead.

"Come on, Gus, don't you want to see the Lassiter's face when he comes home to a Halloween fright feast?" He nudged him, "Gus..."

"Fine, but if I get arrested Shawn-"

"You won't get arrested." He raised three fingers, "Scouts honour."

Gus tried not to think of the fact that Shawn's scouting history had lasted no more than two hours that after an incident with a tree and the leader had got him banned for life.

"Now let's go get smoothied up!" He pointed ahead, a grin forming on his lips.

To Be Continued...

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**AN: Review if you want to...**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I meant to have this up sooner but my internet hasn't been working as well as it should be.**

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Lassiter returned home that night content.

He had made five arrests; four of which had revolved around a Halloween night bank robbery. He was the first on the scene; had managed to shoot out the wheels of the getaway car and after two tried to escape- the other two being smart enough to know when to give up - he had ended up tackling one bank robber in a clown costume and the other he had been forced to shoot in the leg, or the foot to be more precise, a minor injury; only one toe shot off.

The other arrest had been for a usual out of hand Halloween prankster. He hated those punks; he didn't care what age they were, they should learn to respect authority. Unfortunately, the chief had pushed for a warning as opposed to arresting him – a waste of a perfectly good justice system, as far as he was concerned.

His house was pitch dark as he unlocked the door, making sure to look over his shoulder in case Spencer was lurking as he was the night before. Now there was a man who deserved to be arrested, especially with that psychic malarkey he was spouting out. Why anyone bought that clairvoyant crap was beyond him?

He flicked on the light switch; hand on the handle of his gun as he listened for intruders. Safe assured by his highly developed hearing that no one was in the house, he removed his hand and headed to the kitchen to pick up a cloth.

He needed to clean his gun.

He flicked on the light for his kitchen.

The lights flickered above him and he narrowed his eyes in response.

He flicked the light switch again.

A cackle filled the air.

Lassiter quickly spun around to draw his gun.

"Come out with your hands up!" He shouted, and the cackling grew louder; an act which made the vein in his forehead flare in anger.

He moved towards the source of the sound, his feet carefully placed to reduce the amount of noise he was making. He moved the foot he was about to place down on a floorboard he knew had a tendency to creak to the nearest one to the left and to his surprise, music played instead.

He frowned, thinking to himself, 'Is that...Thriller?'

He suddenly had flashbacks to his college girlfriend and he shuddered at the memory. He had made it a point to avoid hearing that song for as long as he could ever since and to hear it now only brought back bad memories of idiots and alcohol and...Jeanine. That girl had been a whirlwind. Had come into his life and almost had stolen more than just his heart...not that she had, of course...stolen his heart. Nope. She hadn't...

He shook himself from his thoughts. This was no time to be thinking; this was a time for action.

He moved towards the door, ignoring the music.

He prepared himself to count to three and by the time he got to two he was kicking down the door, his gun steady in his hand only to find that the room was empty of people. It was however filled with a multitude of cheap imitations, all of which he had seen on people during some point of this very night.

Hanging from thin strings were masks. And on the edges poorly carved pumpkins littered the shelves; their horrible faces stared back at him and he growled at them. Grimacing, he moved towards them, ripping them from their strings.

The first few pulled out with ease, but it was when he went to pull off the clown's face that caused problems.

There was a small click as something pulled loose. A quick whirring sound screeched and Lassiter turned towards the noise, just in time to see something coming his way.

He didn't have time to move; didn't have time to duck or dodge or to make any effort to get out of the line of fire.

The next thing he knew his face was covered in pie and the taste of pineapple and pumpkin filled the taste buds in his mouth.

His face was scrunched up, eyes closed as he shouted with a mouthful of pineapple and pumpkin pie, "SPENCER!"

The cackling laughter rung in his ears, high pitched and shrill as the recording played out on a speaker.

He was going to kill that fake psychic if it was the last thing he did.

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Nearby Lassiter's house Shawn and Gus were doubled over in laughter as they watched from a laptop as Lassiter's face was covered in pie – pineapple flavoured, of course; with pumpkin added in for good measure so it the operation name at least held some truth to it.

"Shawn..." Gus managed to gasp out, through a hysterical fit of laughter. He waved a hand in front of his eyes as if action could manage to stop his laughter and the subsequent tears that followed.

"I know..." Shawn said, a grin overpowering his face, "I know."

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**AN: Review if you enjoyed...**


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